I have lived too long
in the shallow end of your infection,
stepping out across traffic
not dodging,
but standing dopey in the headlights.

Here, the tad poles, the oil slick, the lone glove.
There, you drove our car into the river.

I ask forgiveness from the cigarette butts, the pussy willows, the coconut bra.

Here, the jelly flip flops, the horseflies, the ruined underwear.
There, you chain smoked Pall Malls and promised me I was pretty.
There, you bit my hand and ran into the woods.

I ask forgiveness from the blown tire, the oleander, the pigeon wing.

There, the sunken axle, the Weston in the glove box, the dog jaw.
I crouch low in the ditch. I blur slightly at the edges.